Antek was at such moments quite ready to throw everything up and flee; but again, looking round him at the country-side, and reflecting that flight would mean leaving all that for ever, he was panic-stricken, and would have preferred even the worst of prisons. Yet the thought of a prison, too, filled him with despair. All these inward struggles weighed him down, made him grow haggard and bitter, and harsh and fierce with those at home. What had come over him? Hanka did her very utmost, but to no purpose, to find this out. She had instantly suspected him of renewing relations with Yagna. But her own close scrutiny, and that of Yagustynka (whose fidelity was well paid) and others besides, assured her that the two were quite apart now, and never met: so she was at ease on that score. And yet, no matter how faithful a servant she proved herself, giving him the best food with the most exact punctuality, making the cottage a pattern of neatness and cleanliness, and the farm stock the very perfection of success—all would not do. He was always sullen, morose, ready to upbraid her for the slightest cause, and more than miserly of kind words. And it was worse still when he went about speechless, dreary, sad as an autumn night—not angry, not ill-tempered—only sighing deeply; often spending his whole evening with his acquaintances in the tavern. She durst not question him openly; and Roch vowed that he was aware of nothing wrong. It might well be the truth. The old man was now seen at their cottage only at night. The whole day he was going about with his books, teaching the peasants to pray to the Sacred Heart of Jesus—a devotion which the Russian Government had severely forbidden in church. One evening, all being together at supper, the dogs set to barking furiously along the mill-pond. Roch laid his spoon down and listened attentively. “Some stranger.—I’ll go and see who it is.” He returned in a minute, very pale, and saying: “Sabres are flashing along the road.—If I should be asked after, I am in the village.” And he slipped away amongst the orchard-trees. Antek, white as a corpse, started to his feet. Dogs barked outside the fence; and men, heavily tramping, were heard in the porch. “Have they come to fetch me?” he faltered, terror-struck. They were all petrified: the gendarmes appeared on the threshold. Motionless, Antek glanced at the open doors and windows. Luckily, Hanka had presence of mind enough to offer them settles and beg them to be seated. They answered with civility enough, and at once threw out hints about supper, so that she had to prepare some scrambled eggs for them. “Where are ye going so late?” Antek at length made bold to ask them. “On duty! We have much to do,” their leader returned, with a glance round him. “After thieves, no doubt!” he continued, with more assurance, bringing a bottle out of the store-room. “After thieves—and others.... Drink to us, goodman.”